Creeper Love is Deeper Love
by Rolling Tomorrow
Summary: Director Hope Estheim finds himself dealing with a problem that keeps popping up out of nowhere. And that problem is the new member of his project, Alyssa, who has started stalking him.


Creeper Love is Deeper Love

It was almost the end of the dinner serving hour when Hope Estheim walked brusquely into the Academy cafeteria. He carried a few data panels and several folders of paper documents as he hurried over to take his usual seat at the counter to spread his work out. The server wordlessly put a cup of coffee in front of him then tottered off to make a proper meal. They all still did know that the Director's diet was half coffee.

One of the researchers, Marlow, decided to join his boss and took a seat beside the director. Hope was already too engrossed in his work to notice the other employee's presence. Marlow waited a few moments before speaking up.

"You look even more tired than usual, Director," the researcher remarked.

"I haven't slept in the last two days," he replied blankly.

"Ouch," the researcher said with a wince. "Maybe trade that coffee for a nice, warm bed?"

"Maybe later," Hope said tiredly. "There's still too much to do tonight."

"Y'know, nearly fifty hours of no sleep is rather extreme, even for you," Marlow said with a slight frown. "What's going on?"

Hope finished his cup of coffee and muttered a thank you to the server when she promptly refilled it. He reached out into one of the folders and pulled out a document that mentioned an explosion in one of the research labs. The second paper he produced was about an accidental release of neurotoxin in the monster quarantine.

"It's that new recruit in our division…Alyssa Zaidelle," Hope said tiredly. "She's too energetic and keeps making these hellacious messes that I get stuck cleaning up."

"I heard about that explosion…it was her fault?" Marlow asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes," Hope replied with a frown. "There were only a few injuries, but fortunately most of them aren't trying to sue since she apparently has a fan club…"

The researcher snickered. "You never heard about that?"

"No…why would I?" the director asked warily. "Is it a problem?"

"Geez, you should see yours," Marlow laughed.

"I don't want to know," the director dismissed. "As we were saying…all of that lab's equipment was ruined in the explosion and it was one of the biggest in this facility."

"How'd she manage that?"

"She was supposed to be studying an ancient and potentially dangerous substance we uncovered in the ruins last week," Hope explained as he quickly signed his name on some ordering forms. "But then she got distracted doing Orphan only knows what, let it catch on fire, and then fireworks."

"She does seem a bit scatter brained," Marlow agreed solemnly, always one to agree with his boss.

"And then there was the neurotoxin…" Hope trailed off darkly.

"I know all about that one," Marlow said with a nod.

"And that isn't even the worst of it," Hope grumbled but then shook his head. "But I shouldn't be complaining so much."

"Hey, there's no harm in venting every now and then," he said as he gave his director a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "What could be worse than the explosions and neurotoxin?"

Hope slipped the papers back into the folder before glancing around the cafeteria suspiciously. Marlow followed his gaze curiously, but didn't see anything out of place. Hope turned around to face his subordinate and lowered his voice before he continued.

"I think she's stalking me," Hope said somberly.

Marlow laughed loudly and drew the attention of several other employees in the cafeteria. Hope's frown deepened as he turned his attention back to his work. He brusquely went through a few more of his folders to find the rest of the paperwork associated with the incident. Marlow stared for a moment at the director's significantly less than thrilled demeanor before quieting down.

"Seriously?" he asked jocularly.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" the director asked with a critical frown he learned from a certain ex-sergeant of the Guardian Corps.

"I don't know, I just didn't peg her to be the stalker type," he shrugged.

"She knows all of my shifts and is waiting outside my door almost every morning. She tries to synchronize our lunches every day and the organizers are starting to complain," Hope explained darkly. "She even has a picture of me as her desktop background and I have no idea when it was taken."

Marlow snickered. "What else?"

"She knows the size of my shoes and figured out three of my passwords. She gets into my email and thinks it's cute and helpful to categorize it for me. She complains if I don't acknowledge her and she pops out of nowhere trying to hug me to grab me all the time. She always wants to drag me off to private places – literally."

"That doesn't sound so bad…or are you one of those people who get weird when they're touched?" the researcher asked as he gave the director an experimental poke.

Hope only frowned at him. "No."

"Alright, good," Marlow said with a nervous laugh, unsettled by his tired boss' irritable expression. "Does she pick up your dry cleaning too?"

"And she seems to have gotten the cooks to divulge my favorite kind of oatmeal," he said, shaking his head tiredly.

"That's…dedication," the researcher said lamely.

"Why wouldn't she just ask? It's much less strange that way," the director added.

"But not as creepy. Stalkers usually like to be creepy," he said matter-of-factly to his boss. "But she's pretty enough, is it really that bad?"

Hope didn't respond immediately; he knew that the same excuse he always used sounded dry and weak. After saying it so many times with little explanation, it was as cold and hard as crystal. The truth wasn't exactly glorious, but it almost never was.

"I'm waiting for someone to return," Hope said, but turned back to the main topic before he was asked to explain.

There was always something significantly awkward about explaining how the person he was waiting for as believed to be trapped in a crystal pillar or if his theories were correct, off fighting in some faraway land. It was always a conversation killer.

"Does she sew your socks and wash your underwear?" Marlow asked dryly.

"I…sincerely hope not," the director responded, mentally cringing as he glanced around again. "It's just so unnerving to worry about her popping out of nowhere, half tackling me and-"

"It's called 'glomping'," he interjected.

"Glomping?" Hope echoed vacantly.

"Glomping," he repeated gravely.

"As I was saying…" Hope trailed off, stifling a yawn. "She sticks her nose into all sorts of things she has no business knowing. It's tiring and disturbing."

"I bet she knows the size of your underwear," the researcher said casually.

Hope winced at the thought as he returned to his paperwork. There were still more ordering forms for replacement lab equipment with six digit totals for him to sign. As he looked through the lists of damages, he couldn't shake the unpleasant feeling that he would be stuck with his stalker for some time to come.

Alyssa Zaidelle glanced up and down the hallway before she approached her boss' bedroom door. She was absolutely certain he would still be in the cafeteria; she knew he carefully checked the bulk ordering forms after they realized that the Academy was funding a Xanax gummy bear addiction. And even if he was leaving, she'd still have time to get in and out before he returned.

She smirked as she typed the lock override code into the lock mechanism's keyboard. She has made it a point to memorize it some time ago; there was no denying that it paid off. The original codes always worked, even on the door of the esteemed Director Hope Estheim's door. She slipped inside and flipped the light on before creeping over to his bedroom.

She was familiar with the appearance of his personal quarters. He moved around quite often and he never had many personal possessions with him. The apartment was kept neat, but he didn't have much that could make it look like a mess. There were some folders and data panels around, but that too was mostly kept in orderly stacks. There was only one personal item she always found hanging somewhere in any room he had; an old boomerang.

But her thoughts weren't focused on his memento and multitude of paperwork. On the contrary, she was intent upon where he kept his clothes. It was just a plain, metal piece of furniture protruding from the wall, but with so many wonderful things inside.

_Like clothes…_

_ Clothes that he's actually worn!_ She cackled at the thought as she crept over and pulled one of the upper drawers open. _Who wouldn't want to have something that he actually wore?_

Most of what she found in the first few drawers she checked only continued Academy issued uniforms. But the prize she sought wasn't merely matching jackets and shirts issued to everyone in the organization. She peeked inside another and it didn't take her long to find the chariot drawer of what she sought.

_Finally._

She pulled the drawer further out and evilly laughed in triumph. She observed the drawer full of the prizes to complete her shrine of stalkerism. It was a feet of perversion and she knew it, but she didn't particularly care. She lifted one of the garments out and nodded approvingly when she checked the size.

"Boxers," she observed aloud. "Just as I thought."


End file.
